On the Run
by TitanTipTop
Summary: Anna Park had a past that she had been running from for years, but once Pietro Maximoff shows up, he forces her to look into her past and face it. At the same time, she learns about him and his difficult relationship with life and death. They both learn to turn to each other in their darkest days, even when there seems to be no hope left, until they can't reach each other.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Running had become my solace.

Every day at the track, same time, same distance, faster speed.

I felt that if I went faster, I was safer. I could run away from everything, all of my problems.

My depressing job, my messy past, my piles of bills. I could just run away from it.

Or, at least I could while I was at the track. About an hour a day where I didn't have to think or worry, I could just run.

I was lucky there was a high school near my apartment with a full outdoor track; I couldn't afford a gym membership just to run, and I didn't like how crowded regular streets were.

And it was the same thing everyday. One or two new people would show up every once in awhile, but would eventually give up and never return; no one needed to run quite like I did.

Except one person.

He had watched me run for a few minutes from the fence one day. It was hard to miss him; being quite tall and built along with being the only other person there made him noticeable.

It made me uncomfortable, that someone felt the need to stand and watch me. Just me. There was no other excuse for him to stand on the other side of the fence. He was obviously taller and stronger than I was, and could be a serious danger to me. I made me feel like I was back in my past, when there were always eyes on me.

I reminded myself that I could run away if I needed to, and just continued with my laps, hoping that he would get bored and leave.

I was anxious the whole time until he was gone, but then he showed up the next day, and the day after that, and his appearances continued. Though, he only passed by or stopped for a few seconds on some days.

And then, he joined me.

Without hesitation, In jeans and a long shirt, he hopped the fence and started jogging, and we eventually matched pace.

Neither of us spoke at first, I just kept my eyes forward, nervous to look over and possibly recognize the face as one of the men that had taken me in the past. Nervous that it was all coming back to me in that moment, because I thought I was finally safe. I felt that in that moment, I was locked on to the track: as though if I tried to run away he would only catch up. My safe spot, my sanctuary, had been penetrated by fear for the first time.  
There was only the sound of my breathing, the strange man didn't even seem out of breath while he ran with me.

Finally, he opened his mouth, "You run a lot."

And that was all he had to say, a normal comment, and almost harmless. I didn't recognize the voice; he had a thick accent, something Serbian probably. This gave me the courage to look over at his face.

He was smirking over at me, under a little stubble and white hair. In the moment, running along with me, his face almost seemed kind.

I felt some of my fear seep away when I saw that I didn't recognize him.

I jabbed back quickly, "And you watch me a lot." But he only laughed a bit and didn't seem phased.

And with that, we returned to the silent jog. I couldn't figure out what he was running for, he obviously didn't plan on this given clothes, but he just continued as if he ran like this all the time.

About half a mile of running past, with him matching my speed no matter how much I slowed down or sped up, until he spoke again, "I bet I can run faster than you."

I was pretty confident, almost dependent on my running abilities, so I naturally challenged him, "I don't know- I can run pretty fast."

"How about this," he offered, "I beat you: you tell me your name. You beat me: I will personally hand you $10,000 in cash and never bother you again."

He was smirking, like he was confident that he knew he would win. And it just made me want to beat him more. But if he was serious, I could use the money now more than ever, and I knew how fast I could be when I needed it.

We came to a stop and locked in the bet with a handshake. His hand almost engulfed mine as he looked into my eyes and said, "You have my word, don't hold back."

I only nodded in responce and he smiled and walked me to the starting line at the beginning of the straight away of the track.

"Ready?" He said in his thick accent, smiling with his teeth.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I found it hard to smile back when I felt he had ulterior motives in this bet.

He raised his eyebrows, "Go-"

I took off, faster than him for a moment, though he quickly caught up. For the rest of the straight away he kept only a step or two in front of me no matter how fast I ran. It was like he was taunting me, and he did it with a full smile on his face, and he kept it on his face as he crossed the line to mark our finish a few steps in front of me.

Once I slowed down I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath- that was the fastest I had run since the night I ran away, but it wasn't good enough. I realized very quickly that my speed couldn't take all of my problems away. And my breath stayed caught in my throat, I could feel myself start to panic.

Obviously not noticing my mental dilemma, he walked over with his hands on his hips, "You didn't see that coming? I think I deserve that name now."

I looked up to see that he looked proud of himself, that he had beaten me in the race.

"Anna," I said, "My name is Anna Park,"

He held out his hand once more, "Pietro Maximoff,"

I didn't want to show my anger towards him, as he could have no idea that he was causing it, and took his hand to shake it.

"Now," he wiped off a bead of sweat that had formed on his forehead, "Would you let me take you out for a drink, Anna Park?"

I huffed, who the hell did this guy think he was? He nearly stalks me for a week, giving me anxiety, then challenges me to race putting ten thousand dollars on the line, beats me, and then asks me out? Did he think this was a successful way to flirt? There was no way in hell I would go anywhere with him, he's only succeeded in either scaring me or angering me; I wasn't really excited for anything else he had in store.

"I don't know about that," I turned around and started walking towards the entrance of the track, "I'm going to just go back home,"

"Wait," he jogged up to me, getting in front of me and walking backwards, "Just one drink, or I'll buy you food?"

He looked at me expectantly, like he was truly wishing that I would accept his offer.

I sighed, walking through the gate and continuing forward, "You know you seem really desperate."

He gave a more pained smile and little wrinkles formed around his eyes, "I don't know about that," he scratched the back of his neck for a moment, "It's just that my sister keeps telling me to get out more. So, I go on these walks to make her think I'm going out to be around people, but she knows that I'm just walking around; she's really good at reading people. I'm just trying to make her happy for once."

"Why don't you get out much?" I questioned, "you seem really sociable."

He turned so he could walk along side me and started to look around at the trees and buildings we passed, trying to look anywhere but me, "I just went through some, well, things not too long ago, it's been eating away at me. So I don't leave much. I've kept to myself for the past month or so."

There was a long pause, I wasn't really sure what to say to him.

I had been through 'things' in the past too. Things I wasn't ready to share or deal with, things that were keeping me from moving on in my life, keeping me from being happy, keeping me from my family. But we probably didn't go through the same things, and I certainly wasn't going to tell this complete stranger my life story just to make him feel better, or even feel bad for me.

And, yeah. I was shutting myself in too. I wake up in my one bedroom apartment every day, alone, go to work at the restaurant I waitress at for 8 hours a day, go to the track to run, and go home to sleep. The most social interaction I get comes from work. In fact, this was the longest conversation I've had with a man in the past 2 years. I just don't have a sibling to tell me to get my shit together, so it just keeps falling apart.

"So, just one drink? For me?" He sighed, "For my sister, actually."

I nodded, giving him a small smile, "Okay, just one. And you're paying."

"That's fine with me."

(A/N)

It would be great if you reviewed and let me know what you think; I just got this idea in my head and I figured I would run with it. I have a lot of plans for this character and plans on how to wrap her into the marvel universe too, and I'd really like to play with that so if you're interested in the story let me know.

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So where are you from, Pietro?"

We had been talking for a while, and my drink was mostly untouched. We had talked a lot about me. He didn't let me fit in many questions about him, but at this point he knew a lot about me. Favorite music, TV show, Movie, animal, my job, my hobbies. They were all surface characteristics, but it was still more than knew about Pietro. It started feeling like he was trying to keep me from knowing anything.

He took down the last bit of his drink, actually the last bit of his third drink, before he answered, "Sokovia," He waved to get another drink from the waiter and noted my confused expression, "Near Austria and the Czech Republic,"

I nodded and took a small sip of my drink; I wasn't a big drinker. "So what's your first language?"

He smiled, "I grew up learning speaking Serbian and learning English. So technically Serbian, but I know both equally well. I just have this stupid accent in English, as everyone likes to point out."

I laughed a bit, I was actually enjoying myself, out being social with a guy I just met. I couldn't remember the last time I was this happy, it must have been four years ago. I haven't been able to breath like this in four years. I took another drink.

"I don't think it's _that_ stupid," I joked, which I hadn't been able to do in a while, "Anyway, why did you leave? Both you and your sister must have left if she's the one that's been telling you to get out more."

I could tell I hit a nerve when his smile dropped and he looked down at the bar, "That is privileged information," his hands gripped the edge of the bar and I could see his knuckles turning white. He took a deep break and looked up, trying to gather his playful demeanor back with that same smile he had been flashing at me this whole time, "I can't let you know all my secrets, I just met you."

I felt the need to laugh, like a small joke would diffuse the tension that built with that question, the question that had obviously brought Pietro back to somewhere he never wanted to be again. The laugh only had minimal effect, as we fell into a moment of silence where I rubbed the condensation off my glass with my thumb, and Pietro threw his back so fast there was no time for any liquid to form on the outside.

"What about you?" His voice brought my eyes back to him, "Are you from New York?"

I shook my head sadly, "No, Miami, In florida. I'd rather not talk about that,"

He dropped the subject as fast as he had brought it up, but I felt his eyes comb over me, as if he was waiting for me to burst into tears.

To be honest, I probably could have. Any mention of Miami always nearly made me cry: it held both the best and worst memories of my life. That city brought me an overwhelming mix of emotions.

"So," I tried to bring the conversation to a casual level, rather than emotional, "What do you do?"

He scratched the back of his neck, "Uh, Private security work, you know?"

I nodded, "Anywhere in particular?"  
"No, no. Just, anywhere."

His answer was strange and kind of unnerving and it made me realize that I still didn't know much about Pietro. He could have been anyone, he could have done anything. He had been making me so comfortable, but he had avoided most of my questions.

All I really knew was where he was from.

"I should actually probably be going home," I stood up and ran a hand through my dirty, brown hair, "It was nice meeting you, Pietro." But before I could make my way to the door he grabbed my wrist.

"Could I have your phone number?" He asked, looking at me expectantly, "I like talking to you, I would like to do it again."

I shifted on my feet, I didn't really want him to have my phone number, but I gave it to him anyway, holding that small fear in the back of my mind of how he may react if I didn't hand it to him. And with that, he walked happily out the door after giving me a good night.

So I walked home as I did every night, just a bit later.

I gripped the pepper spray I owned a little tighter on the inside of my bag than I normally did that night.

It was really because of the time, since I stayed and talked with Pietro for so long, it was already dark, and I didn't exactly live in a very nice part of town. My pepper spray was actually my first purchase when I started making money, it was a necessity.

I made it home safely, and promptly jumped into the shower. Like always, the water was too cold for comfort and woke my body up when I should have been winding down for bed, but it gave me the energy to wash my work uniform and hang it up for the next morning.

I had started working in a breakfast restaurant on the other side of town a little over a year ago. It was my first job since coming to New York, and I took it the moment I got it.

Of course, it ended up being a ways away from the apartment that I got not too long after, but I just needed whatever I could afford, it didn't really matter how close it was to work. So, I needed to get up early for the 45 minute walk to the restaurant to get ready to open a 6:30, and I stayed all the way until 4 in the afternoon. I did what I had to in order to pay bills. To even get this apartment I had to take loans from some people in the area, the interest was high, but no banks would have taken me. I was homeless at the time. I was still paying off those loans, and it was getting more difficult every day.

But working the next day was the same as every other day, both miserable and enjoyable. I didn't particularly enjoy being a waitress, but the diner got my mind off of things., even if it wasn't very busy. It was one of the few times I was fully distracted from the rest of my life. In fact, working was almost my whole life at this point.

But it only lasted until four, and I was forced to leave. I changed in the bathroom into running clothes and headed over to the track, like always.

I hadn't gotten any texts or calls from Pietro that day, but he did show up halfway through my run.

He stood on the inside of the fence this time, and leaned back into as he waited for me to get closer to him.

He looked the same as yesterday, if anything a little more tired, but still with a bit of a smile on his face.

"Anna-" he called me over when I was close enough.

I decided it would be best to go and talk to him rather than ignore him for the rest of the run, and I doubted he would just leave without talking, so I stopped and walked towards him.

"My sister was happy that I went and talked to someone," He said, "But she said I was too persistent and might have scared you. I wanted to apologize, I didn't intend to do that,"

I nodded with a small thankyou. I was worried yesterday, he was a bit too pushy.

"But I would like to talk to you again, I will text you so you have my number, " he put his hand on my arm, almost in a comforting way, "I'm always here if you need me, Anna."

And with that he said good bye, returning to his walk.

I was surprised, he had been really persistent the day before. His sister must have really dug into him if he was willing to apologize and leave without talking.

I wanted to meet her.

But Pietro had walked far enough away the I could hardly see his silver hair in the distance, so I just returned to my run and continued my day like any other.

After texting me just so I had his number, Pietro didn't reach out again.

He did walk by every day at the same time I was doing my run, but just sent over a wave and a smile without stopping to talk, and continued his walk. I started thinking about him more, wondering if he had lost all interest in me, or if his sister had just told him to keep his distance.

But after about a week of little connection, I arrived at the track and didn't walk through the gate.

Still wearing my work clothes, a white button up and black skirt, I waited on the outside of the fence for Pietro to come by on his daily walk.

It took him a little longer than usual, but he did come by, wearing a dark jacket to contrast his hair, and as always a smile on his face.

"Anna- you're not running?"

I looked down and pushed myself off of the fence, "No, I was waiting for you. I thought we could maybe, I don't know what I thought actually." I wrung my hands. I actually didn't come up with a plan, even with all of that time of waiting.

"Talk?" He offered.

I nodded, "Yeah, talking works,"

He looked down and kicked a rock with his shoe, "I have no money on me right now, and my sister is, uh, having people over so I can invite you over."

"That's okay, my apartment works," I started leading him in the direction of my apartment.

Being honest, I was nervous to show him where I stayed. It wasn't nice, and it wasn't in a nice area, I just didn't want to be judged for that.

But to take my mind off of it, I decided to ask him about the sister he always mentioned, "So, you live with your sister? You guys close?"

He nodded, "Yes, we live with a few other, uh, roommates. Her name is Wanda, and she's all I have left."

"Your parents stayed in Sokovia?" I asked.

He coughed uncomfortably as we walked up the stairs to my building, "They actually died."  
I froze while putting my key in the lock and looked up at him, "I'm so sorry, Pietro. I didn't realize."

He waited for me to unlock the door and looked up at the sky, "It was a long time ago, Anna," after a pause he asked, "What about you, family?"

I sighed, starting to walk up the stairs to my apartment on the third floor.

"I haven't spoken to them in about four years, honestly. I think my dad died. As far as I know my mom is probably still in Miami, but I'm just too afraid to reach out at this point."

I noticed the shock on his face as I let him in, "You think? You're not sure?"  
He walked into my apartment, taking the small area in.

There was a small kitchen directly next to the living space and two doors on the far wall, one for the bedroom and one for the bathroom. Everything was quite dingy, and you would think that I would have actually take the time to tidy up, but I didn't really plan on bringing him over.

"Yeah, I think I saw the obituary in the paper, but I was sitting next to someone on a bus and reading over his shoulder. He left right when I noticed, so I didn't get a good look at the paper," I picked up a few papers and magazines sitting on the coffee table and tossed them into my room and picked up the throw pillows and pushed them into the couch, hoping to make my apartment a little more presentable, "Sorry, It's not much. But, uh, its really all I can afford."

He sat down and I followed. Pietro looked around, soaking in the small space and all of the imperfections, "Its perfectly fine," he admitted, "It looks like the apartment I had with my family back in Sokovia."

I took a seat next to him and we both looked at each other expectantly, it dawned on me that I had no actual plan or no real idea on what to talk to him about. This was just a decision I made on a whim with no actual plan.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" He asked.

"I-uh," I paused and laughed for a moment, "I'm not actually sure, I didn't really think about that. I just, I don't know, haven't really spend any time casually with someone in so long. I don't know what I was really planning."

He nodded and folded his hands into his lap, "How was work?"

I figured that was a good enough place to start, so I told him all about it. About the man that complained that we didn't serve hamburgers, about the old lady who talked to me about standing tall and being confident, about the kids that forgot to leave tips. I told him about everything all the way to how much I didn't like the clothes I had to wear.

But he avoided the questions I had about his job.

I decided to ask more about his sister, Wanda.  
He told me about how close they were, being twins and all. About how forceful she could be with him, even though he was a whole twelve minutes older. About how glad she will be that he isn't home yet, and that he couldn't live without her.

"I'd like to meet her sometime," I admitted, "She sounds wonderful,"

"She would like to meet you too," he laughed to himself for a moment, "Just watch out, sometimes it feels like she can read your mind."

It felt like an inside joke but I laughed along anyway, being around him was starting to get easier. He was just a very comfortable person. He put my mind at ease when I was around him.

"So, Anna, why do you run so much? Everytime I walk by you're always running."

It was an innocent enough question, but it forced me to squirm in my spot. Running was such a personal subject, it was how I escaped my past. Both literally and figuratively, it protected me.

"I just, you know, enjoy it. It keeps me active." I lied through my teeth.

He nodded, "I think running is quite fun, but I am quite good at it, so that may be why."

After than we started talking about inane things; the weather and news and politics. Getting stuck in daily conversation that I had been missing for years.

It almost felt intimate.

And it turned to interests, how he had recently discovered American television, how he loved 'Friends', how I wished I could cook, and how I always wanted to keep plants.

Before we were aware, it was late, and I needed to start to get ready to wake up early the next morning for work.

When I walked him to the door, Pietro admitted, "This was nice, we should talk more. I enjoy spending time with you, Anna."

"I enjoyed it too," Pietro reached down for a hug and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. I could feel his muscles move under my arms as he squeezed me tight. I didn't realize just how built he was before that moment.

"Goodnight,"

And with that he was out of my apartment for the night.

I did truthfully hope that he would want to spend time together again. His presence was so comforting. We could actually be friends, he could be the first friend I've had in years.

With Pietro still on my mind, I got ready for bed, dreading the fact that I would have to work a long day before I had the chance to see him once again.

But the next day came quickly once my head hit the pillow, and with Pietro's talks to look forward to, I just wanted to speed through the day.

And that's how the next week or so went.

I would work all day and Pietro would meet me at the track later. It was an unannounced agreement between us; I would run, and Pietro would talk my ear off.

We can gotten quite comfortable with each other, he even suggested that he would bring his sister by. He said she wanted to meet me.

Things were going well, I was glad to have my new friend.

When I walked into work on saturday morning, the manager and owner of the restaurant was sitting at the breakfast bar, hunched over his Iphone and scrolling through his emails.

Like every morning, I said hello and began taking the chairs off of the tables so we could set up for the saturday morning rush.

But he got up and stopped me.

Mr. Reeds was an older man that I had brought myself to look up to in the past year.

He had started with very little, but his and his wife's dream was to make people happy, and they way they did it was through food. I felt that his achievements could be an example for me, that I didn't have to be stuck in this state of my life forever.

"Ms. Anna, can I speak with you, there's no need to do that just take a seat with me."

I obliged and sat next to him at the bar, curious as to what he had to say. Though I did look up to Mr. Reeds, we hardly spoke.

He took a moment to compose himself, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and taking a deep breath.

"I'm afraid that we're shutting down the restaurant."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I couldn't just leave him.

Mr. Reeds had already called the other employees and let them know that they didn't need to come into work. I had gotten the job so long ago that the phone number he had for me was incorrect, so he couldn't contact me before hand.

But I stayed. And I helped.

All of the chairs and tables were his, some of the equipment as well. We had to load it all onto a truck so he could store it in the hopes of selling it later. After all, he couldn't live with no money coming in.

The clean up of the restaurant took a long time, but I hardly noticed. I worked so hard that I didn't even think, I just enveloped myself into the menial labor and tried not to imagine how my life would change when I had to walk out the restaurant doors for the last time. However, it had to come to an end.

He placed a hand on my arm before he opened the door for me, "If you need anything, Ms. Anna, don't hesitate to call. I don't have much, but I'll always be here for you. You did so much for me and this business."

He informed me that my last check would be in the mail and that I should take measures to collect unemployment.

It was truly real, I was stuck in New York City, unemployed and broke. Again.

I headed to the track like any other day, I just couldn't bring myself to break the routine. It was familiar as always, but it wasn't helping my brain unscramble the mess of emotions I was feeling.

I ran slower, even tripped a few times. It was hard to see, my eyes and become clouded. I couldn't tell the difference between my sweat and my tears. I didn't even know how long I had been running.

I just knew it was time to stop.

I found my way to the gate and shrank down into the ground. My legs pulled up into my chest, secured by my arms, and I pressed my face into my knees.

It was a burningly familiar position, through the chainlink pressing into my back was a new sensation.

I didn't move for a long time. The tears just kept pouring from my eyes, soaking the material of my pants around my knees. I didn't see an end to it.

"Anna?" A familiar accent said, no doubt standing right above me, "Is everything okay?"

I didn't want to look up. The last thing I wanted was Pietro standing over me.

This was my issue, and I'd solve it alone, as I always did. I didn't want a hand out or even help or a charity donation. I wanted to prove that I could do it on my own.

"Anna." He said more sternly, it had only been a few seconds from when he spoke before. He sure was impatient.

I glanced up, squinting through some of the tears still stuck in my lashes and taking a deep breath to relax my chest, "It's not the best time, Pietro."

He stood still above me, hands in his track pants and a confused look spread across his face, "What happened?" He knelt down infront of me, putting his hands on either side of my arms, "You can tell me, Anna."

I reached my hand over to my eyes and wiped them as clean as I could. My makeup streaked against the back of my hand.

I must have looked like such a disaster.

"Anna."

I pushed one of his hands off my arm, "Could you give me a second to think?"

Pietro pulled his hands back when I snapped at him. It may have been harsh, but I wasn't really planning on spilling all of my life story to him. I just needed a moment to evaluate everything now that I was thinking clearly again. I didn't need a therapy session with him.

I pushed myself up from the ground, and he followed closely behind, "I lost my job, that's all. Now if you'll let me go-"

His hand wrapped around my wrist as I tried to walk away, "Anna, That's horrible. I'm sorry."

I looked up at his face.

He looked genuinely worried. Pietro always had a smile on his face when I saw him, very rarely serious. But the smile was replaced with a firm line and his eyebrows were furrowed down.

He looked handsome as always. I just hoped I never had to see his face in that state ever again.

I took a deep breath, looking down at the ground to get a control on my emotions, "I just need to go home to sort it all out."

He nodded and took no pause in responding, "I will walk you."

On the way back we didn't speak at all. The only sound present was my occasional huffing or sniffling in attempt to control my breathing.

I could tell it bothered Pietro. He wouldn't stop fidgeting with his hands, and occasionally he was start walking too fast and it would take him a moment to realize that I was falling behind. He was so agitated with the slow silence, but we eventually did make it to my apartment. When I opened the door, Pietro invited himself in behind me without a word and watched silently from the doorway as I threw myself into the couch. It groaned under the force, but stayed silent as Pietro sat next to me.

I pressed my face into my hands, "Its all I had, I have so many bills to pay. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

I felt a hand rub my back for a second, "It will be okay. You should get one last pay check, right? You have time-"

I felt anger bubble up under my sadness, "That won't be enough! You don't understand the kind of money I owe- the kind of people I owe to." I pushed myself up from the couch, running my hands through my hair and laughing, "I came here with nothing and I took out loans just so I could get this shitty place. I'm not even close to paying those off. And my lease is almost up any way- so it's not like any of that matters." My head dropped to my chest, "They're going to fucking kill me, Pietro."

"What?" His head snapped up and he reached for my arm, "What are you talking about?"

I sat back down, facing him slightly but not looking into his eyes.

I never intended for Pietro to know about my past. Not even the little bit that I was about to say, I didn't want the first friend I got to pity me.

"I was homeless when I got to New York, okay? I managed to get that job, but it wasn't enough to get me off of the streets for a while, so I took out some loans. But banks would never take me, no, I was literally homeless living on the street, how could they? But the guys around here, they don't ask questions. They just expect payments. They're not very tolerant or forgiving."

When I looked up, Pietro's eyes were low and he was thinking intensely, as if he finally understood the weight behind my words. I wanted to say his name, to know what he was thinking and get into his head. I held back, figuring this was just how he felt earlier.

After a moment or two, his head snapped up, and the typical look was in his eye, determined and cheerful, "I will be right back."

He ran out the door before I could respond and shut it behind himself.

"What?" I said out loud, as if he were still there.

I rushed over and threw open the door to not find Pietro in the hall, stairway, or street outside.

I guess he really could run fast.

WIthout any idea as to where he could be, I went back into my apartment, with the expectation to get some rest before I job hunted all the next day.

I scrubbed the make up off of my face and changed into something that wasn't sweat and tear stained.

Digging into the back of the fridge, I found a bottle of wine I must have bought about a week ago and poured some into the first glass I found. And I poured another. And another.

I finished most of the bottle pretty quickly and felt the warmth spread through my body. It was a feeling that I hadn't experienced in a while, and I hardly thought I could afford to feel again any time soon.

Before I could pour my last glass, Pietro knocked anxiously on my door, "Anna- anna let me in. I have news for you."

Reluctantly I let him in, I truthfully didn't want to see him any time soon. I needed to recover from this. I was kind hearted but, admittedly, overbearing. And just too damn energetic.

The moment the door opened he pulled me through shutting it behind him, "Come with me, I need to show you something."

The world spun a bit as he pushed me through the hallway and to the stairs, "Pietro- I'm not going anywhere right now- its late and-"

He quickly shut me down with a shove towards the cab that was waiting outside, "Be quiet, printesa. You'll thank me later."  
My brain got caught up on the new nickname, but I decided to follow his directions anyway, knowing the silence would bother him more than anything during the cab ride and he would probably regret telling me to be quiet.

Regardless of his fidgeting in the seat next to me, it was a short cab ride, and we were dropped at the gate of the track field he found me at earlier.

I stepped out and looked around, it was so late that no one was around and the track was mostly dark. Only the street laps close by lit up a corner.

"Why are we back here, Pietro?"

He only smiled and pulled me to a starting line right before a curve, "Race me. One full lap."

I sighed, putting my hands on my hips, "Pietro what the hell is going on?"

He wouldn't answer, but only repeated, "One lap."

I held my hands up in defeat, "Fine, but don't expect me to go easy on you just because my life fell to shambles and I'm in just pajamas."

He laughed a bit, it was a nice sound to hear after this long day, "I won't need you to. Ready?"

I felt the warm of the alcohol humming in my body and nodded my head, even though I knew this was a terrible idea.

But I took off when he yelled "go" regardless, only to stop in my tracks immediately. Pietro had disappeared, replaced by a shifting light blue line that danced around the track. And in what felt like less than a second, he was standing right next to me again, a slight breeze arriving with him.

My brain couldn't even process what happened, I just stared at him.

"You did not really try did you there, Anna?" He teased.

"Pietro- what-" I stuttered and couldn't find my words.

What the _hell_ had I just witnessed.

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, still teasing me, "I'll give you another chance."

The same thing happened, the same light blue line dashed around the curves and back to me. And Pietro was that line. He was just running that fast. Faster than I could even see.

He smirked when he stopped, "Again? You didn't even take a step that time! Do you-"

I cut him off, losing my temper for a moment, "Pietro, what the hell was that? You can run like that and you challenge me to a race when we met _knowing_ you would win?"

He blinked for a moment, caught off guard by my words. But finally, he laughed, "That's what you are worried about? Printessa, I'm the fastest man alive, and you're worried that I cheated in a race?"

I stood dumbfounded, it was definitely the alcohol that had its say in the words that came out of my mouth, but I wasn't going to admit that to Pietro.

I really should have been worrying about how he runs so fast he can complete a lap in less than two seconds. But still, he cheated.

"Have you been drinking?"

Oh.

He didn't wait for my response, which was good because at that point I didn't know what I would say.

"How about I just show you up close?"

Without much more warning, Pietro swiped a hand under my legs and pulled me into his chest. He smirked down at me once before squeezing my body tight and taking off.

And the world was gone in a blurr.

Pietro must have been used to it, he could probably see everything in perfect clarity, but I was just one big swirl of darkness for me.

And it was over in the blink of an eye, back at the starting line.

"Impressive, no?"

 _Yes_.

But I wasn't about to say that, considering the speed had left my stomach turning and my head spinning, I wasn't about to say anything.

I was about to throw up.

Pietro sighed as I threw myself into the grass and heaved, "So you have been drinking," He knelt next to me and rubbed my back lightly.

I pushed myself to sit up once I was done, "No, it was just shocking is all."

That wasn't _entirely_ untrue. I was extremely shocked, if my brain hadn't been swimming, I probably could have realized how significant this was.

Pietro was the fastest thing on the _globe_. He was superhuman. He could do things I could only dream. And speed was something I did dream about me.

"If I run you back to where I live, will you do that again?" He questioned.

I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and lied through my teeth, "It was the shock. I'll be fine."

He didn't look like he truly believed me, but he picked me off and took off out the gate of the track anyway.

We only had to stop twice so I could find a trash can.

But we eventually made it to our destination, standing in the middle of the city, standing outside of some kind of compound.

It was too dark out to see much of anything, but I could tell we were away from the city.

He smirked at me before turning to the door, "Friday, could you let us in?"

"Yes, Pietro, welcome back." A woman's voice, sounding irish, sounded around us. I couldn't see anywhere where it could have been coming from.

"Pietro, where are we?"

He wrapped his hand around mine and pulled me through the door.

I was almost shocked to find a normal, although expensive, living area.

For a moment I had honestly thought he was bringing me to warehouse to murder me.

I wasn't entirely sure if that was the alcohol or the logic in my head, considering I was trusting the man I barely knew.

"Wanda!" He called out, "I know you are not sleeping, it is still too early for you!"

He let go and disappeared, speeding off into some other room, but leaving my completely alone in the living room.

Pietro must have been rich or something. It was all so nice, modern and clean. I sat on the couch, running my hands over the expensive material. The couch alone must have costed more than most of my belongings put together. I suddenly felt very embarrassed with the fact that Pietro had been in my apartment. The whole thing was less than the size of this living room.

I looked back up when I felt a breeze to see Pietro setting another girl gently down onto the ground.

She was extremely, with long dark brown hair and a warming smile plastered on to her face.

"You must be Anna," her accent matched Pietro's exactly.

I stood up to meet her and she pulled me into a warm hug, "It is so nice to finally meet you, Pietro talks about you a lot-"  
"Wanda," Pietro cut her off, but she didn't seem to mind.

She only pulled back to take a good look at my face and turned back to her brother.

"I can say what I want; you don't control me."

"I am still 12 minutes older than you, you know?"

I smiled at their banter. They must have been extremely close, they were twins after all, and they were still living together. I almost felt like they were in their own world for that second, saying things to each other that I couldn't even here, and I had just disappeared.

"Either way, Anna probably wants to see her room, right?" She pushed Pietro's attention back to me.

"What do you mean?"

Pietro laughed, "That was my good news, Printessa. You can live here now."


End file.
